


Turbocharge

by AdelineAround



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Switch, Android Hank Anderson, Battery Licking, Bottom Hank, Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, Human Connor, Kissing, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Not Beta Read, Orgasm, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Thirium Pump Regulator Fingering, Top Connor, Valve Fingering, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: Connor should have known not to stick his tongue to the battery, metaphorically speaking. Yet, here he is, knuckles-deep in Hank's wires, the HK800 android, on one steamy night.





	Turbocharge

**Author's Note:**

> For @rile_sumo in TwitJericho. Thanks for all your love and support.  
> My mind has been scattered for a month now, so it took too damn long to pump this out.

“L-Lieutenant Stern…”

A jolt of lust strikes through Connor Stern’s body, from the tailbone-up and through each one of his vertebra. His fingers, securely within the opening of the android HK800’s neck port, twitch unconsciously, eliciting a broken sigh from the android’s silicone lips.

“Lieutenant,”

The HK800 model, _Hank_ is what he likes to be called, arches into the less than accidental touch. Connor’s title leaves his artificial tongue, fizzling out into crackling static, but the slightly sultry quality is not lost from it. It sets Connor aflame in the pit of his core as the fly of his work jeans begin to tent with arousal.

In the back of his mind, he should be embarrassed, sporting a stiffy in front of some dolly; more specifically, in front of his android partner Hank. Yet, here he is, hard as a rock, pants starting to become unbearably uncomfortable. Too tipsy to care. Even before that, he has made up his mind about Hank; deemed him more valuable than scrap metal. He bites down on his bottom lip in attempt to conceal the anxious moan teetering on the tip of his tongue. This is all new for him.

This is exhilarating.

“Don’t call me that,” he gruffs. “You know what to call me.”

There is a pause. Then, “Connor,”

 _Fuck_.

Copious saliva collects in the back of Connor’s throat, and he has to gulp. His name sounds like silk rolling from Hank’s synthetic tongue. How good would it be when Hank shouts it in pleasure, with Connor’s hand wrapped around whatever wires he can find and tug without pulling them out of their docks.

If this were any other time, and Connor had not drunk half the bottle of bourbon, his chocolate brown eyes may or may not have seen Hank as such a walking wet dream. Hell, he had nursed the damn drink, sipped it slowly; rolled it upon his tongue even, and still Hank was tempting.

How perfect he is designed; with silvery hair pulled into a short ponytail, and a trimmed beard that only adds an air of wisdom and maturity to his physique. Heat blossoms in Connor’s chest. Hank’s blue eyes are expressive, and were even before he deviated. His lenses shine like opalite in the rays of early morning sun. Something about it is both inhuman yet wholly fascinating.

Hank is broad all over, built to execute a mission as efficiently as possible and with extraordinary strength. Connor recalls when Hank had yanked him up from the side of a building during a chase. His structure is made of the strongest of materials, each component at their peak performance. Connor could be crushed into a pulp by the android, and he would say thank you.

But here he is, Hank at the mercy of his fingers. Connor straddles the HK800 along his hips, his erection pressed up against Hank’s own fat one. One hand steadies himself, palm flat over the expanse of Hank’s gut, while the other is curled around the back of the android’s neck, two fingers lodged into the back neckport.

“Does that feel good, Hank?” he inquires, fingertips brushing over what feel like a coil of cables.

Hank visibly stiffens before his eyelids flutter. The action is brief, but Connor sees the whole thing. And, boy, is it something Connor is going to add to the spank bank.

“Yes, lieu-“ Connor gives him an expectant look when Hank opens his cerulean eyes. “Connor.”

Oh, god. Connor can feel himself hardening to full mast at that. He ruts his hips forward, itching for more contact with the android he so sits upon. His fingers stroke down Hank’s titanium spine, feeling each one of the grooves and notches as it is designed, most likely, to hold and connect the delicate wires Hank can dub “nerves”. He watches as Hank’s jaw quivers, trembling minutely, the android’s hands balling into fists atop the kitchen floor that Connor does not recall cleaning in the last four months. Perhaps he has, but he does not remember off-hand.

Both their erections, natural and artificial, grind together, the fabric of their pants dulling the pleasure that sparks through man and android. Connor gasps, Hank’s imitated breath echoing the lieutenant’s. A baritone moan, almost so animalistic and raw that Connor is shocked, exits Hank’s throat and out his mouth. The android cants his hips upward in search of more friction, wiggling them a bit when their bulges touch again.

It feels good. It feels so good, but not enough. Connor knows he cannot get off this way.

Withdrawing his digits from Hank’s neckport, he nearly wishes he did not when the android fucking _growls_ at the loss of contact. If what he does next wasn’t so pleasurable, Connor would have felt guilty for pulling out.

Quickly, Connor shuffles up and off of Hank, outstretching an arm so he can help hoist the android up onto his feet.

“Bedroom,” he says determinedly. “Now.”

His head is still swimming from the alcohol in his system, but Connor knows that he wants this. Even as he leads Hank to his bed, pushing the android by the chest until Hank comes timbering down like a tree upon the mattress, the flame kindling in his lower belly does not extinguish. In fact, it only proves to grow bigger, seeing his partner sprawled out on the sheets like that.

Is it getting hot in here or what?

Connor quickly shucks himself of his pants and underwear first, stepping out of them as Hank watches with his ocean eyes. Suddenly, Connor feels like an inexperienced teen again, dorky and awkward as he strips in front of the android. Anticipation thrums under his creamy skin, dotted in freckles and moles like a purely unique constellation. His sweater goes next, cable-knit flinging across the room in a blur of navy blue.

He swears Hank makes a guttural noise at that, leaning up on his elbows to take in Connor’s physique. The lieutenant is no doubt beautiful, even as a slightly spidery, oval-shaped scar is spread across the upper left quadrant, closer to the side of Connor’s abdomen. Connor catches him staring, a sheepish grin crawling upon his lips.

“It was a nasty wound,” he explains. “Perp ripped right through me,”

“There is an exit wound,” Hank surmises. “A gunshot.”

“Y-yeah…” Connor blinks, the gears in his mind turning before he turns around to show his back. There is an equally brutal mark, larger and more nasty than the one on his front. His muscles bunch and relax as he seems to cave in on himself a little.

And gasps when a large hand comes out to touch it. Hank traces over the scar lightly, lips silent as he feels the knotted flesh there. The touch is gentle enough where Connor does not want to flinch away. Instead, his breath hitches with every micro-movement of Hank’s digits, is heart pounding.

“Does it hurt?” Hank asks after a while.

Connor shakes his head. “Only when it gets freezing cold. Otherwise, no.”

“Good.”

Hank presses a kiss to the bullet scar, causing Connor to yelp, “Hank!” He whips around, missing Hank’s nose with his elbow by a few centimeters. “What-“

The android’s LED spins a constant blue, but his eyes glint with something Connor cannot quite discern. “It is cold in here, Connor. I was just trying to warm your skin.”

Connor almost wants to crack a smile at that. His wit must have rubbed off on Hank through all those months of working closely together.

“Has anyone told you you’re a flirt?” Connor asks, crawling onto the bed.

He does not hide his obvious erection, letting Hank gobble it up with his robot eyes all he wants.

“Maybe just once,” Hank grins, the edges of his lips lifting along with the beard nearest it.

With that, Connor brings their mouths together, ceasing all talk for now. Soft lips slot against one another, puckering and pursing as he and Hank kiss. A textured tongue, not as slick with spit as a human’s, slithers out to brush the man’s bottom lip, as if asking for entrance. Connor opens up with haste; he will not hesitate when what he wants is dangled in front of him.

Something like an electric pulse sparks through both human and android as their oral muscles collide. Both their shoulders jolt in the tiniest of ways, tongues curling around each other once again. Slowly, they twist and turn, suddenly divulging away from the sensual tango they have been engaging in for a round of tag. Connor is the first one to start, with Hank chasing him with alarming speed. From one hot cavern to another, they play tag, flitting over every ridge and groove in organic and plastic mouth.

All the while, Hank and Connor cannot seem to keep themselves off each other. Their hands are just as occupied; Hank’s helping Connor’s as the lieutenant undresses the android from his stuffy uniform. They only break the kiss for a moment, when Connor runs out of breath and begins gasping like a fish out of water.

He laughs, nearly ripping open Hank’s button-up as soon as the suit jacket is wrestled from the android’s body.

Underneath the clothing, Hank is nothing short of Connor’s fantasy. He knows he is salivating over the android, yet he cannot help it. And it is just the beginning.

A whir comes from Hank’s neck, a sure sound that he is trying to open the neckport again. Connor stops him.

“No, wait.” He taps the faint, circular outline just below where Hank’s xyphoid process would be. “Do you, you know… feel anything here?”

Hank trembles as a fingernail scrapes against the lip of his thirium pump regulator. There is something that crawls from the depths of his programming, something that tells him he should not want to know what Connor is thinking of doing to him. But he is deviant, and deviants feel as much as they think freely. Want as much as they need; and Hank _wants_ to know what Connor is planning.

“My sensors say that I do,” He pauses, as if to mimic clearing his throat though he does not need to. “There is a panel that retracts so you may see my thirium pump as well.” Surprised, Connor almost chokes when Hank asks, “Would you like to see it?”

Does Connor want to see it..? Is that a rhetorical question?

“Please,” Connor whispers.

Not a second later, a hiss emerges from Hank’s chassis as his chest plate clicks open and up, skin deactivating so Connor may see the biocomponents that make up the HK800 model. Soon, Hank is showing off his diaphragm component, the one responsible for housing the main pump regulator. In a translucent cage of mock ribs, Connor watches the android’s thirium pump beat, left ventricle contracting hard, with the four quadrants glowing a beautiful hue of thirium blue.

Hank is beautiful.

As beautiful as machinery based off the human body can get. Connor watches every pulse of Hank’s robot heart in awe, unable to pry his eyes away from the android.

It is captivating, appealing and, for some reason, Connor wants to put it near his mouth.

“Connor,” Hank sighs out his name, nervous in the way that Connor does not move, brown eyes fixed on his thirium pump.

But what happens next is something Hank and Connor are not expecting. Connor brings his face down to Hank’s open torso, tongue eager for a taste of Hank’s _anything_ , with the case being his goddamn _heart’s_ regulator. When his taste buds finally make contact with the metal, it is cool, with a slightly bitter taste that must be from the material Hank’s chassis is made of. There is another thing, too, one that Connor cannot put into words exactly as he licks around the circular rim of the android’s thirium pump regulator. He finds the edges of biocomponent and chassis there; dips the bit of his tongue in for good measure of curiosity.

And cries out as something absolutely _wicked_ zaps through Connor’s flesh body like a lightning bolt.

Connor retreats from the area as quickly as he can, eyes wide in surprise. Hank looks just as shocked, mouth dropping as he attempts to cover up his thirium pump regulator some.

“Are you okay?” Hank reaches out. Thankfully, Connor is trusting enough to let him touch the man. This time, there is no zap that courses through him.

“Just peachy,” Connor lets out a shaky breath. Then, he smiles lopsidedly at the android. “What the fuck was that?”

Hank reveals his chest again at Connor’s expression. The lieutenant does not look hurt, to Hank’s luck.

“I believe my electrical current may have jumped and flowed through the wet of your saliva, Connor.”

Connor blinks. “That… makes sense.” Then, he says, “It was just unexpected, Hank.”

Before Hank can reply, Connor is back on him, fingers inching toward the waistband of the android’s trousers. He unbuttons them with deft movements, though he is still lightly shaking from his arousal. The zipper is pulled down with enough force to break the track, but Connor cannot care less.

“Lift,” he commands Hank.

When the android does, Connor yanks Hank’s bottoms from him, exposing him to open air and gasping when Hank’s endows member bounces from the force, pointing towards the ceiling. It is almost comical, but Connor is too horny right now to laugh at that. Instead, he wants that robo-cock fucked into his throat, shoved so deep that Connor is choking. The pants go forgotten on the floor of the man’s bedroom.

The weight and thickness of Hank’s cock is impressive. This will be one of Connor’s biggest, if he does say so himself. Then again, he does not go out searching for the longest, girthiest of men to fuck himself on. Still, it is spectacularly sculpted like a piece of art. If Connor had to rate it, he would claim Hank has a cock big and handsome enough to rival Adonis.

“Ohh,” Hank breathes when Connor wraps his hand around his hard rod called dick.

Connor strokes him with one hand a few times, relishing in the way Hank’s facial expressions contort. Then, he brings his other back to the thirium pump regulator, not at all timid of the possible electric shock that Hank might give him. Besides, it had only happened when Connor tried to _lick_ it.

His confidence proves to be fruitful too, as Hank belts out the rawest groan of pleasure when Connor feels up his open chest and to his thirium pump regulator. The pulsing blue heart within clear plexiglass jumps at the touch before going back to its steady pace. Hank wiggles his hips, canting them and granting Connor even more access to his biocomponents. Connor takes his time to caress regulator’s rim, moving onto a structure that feels like a combination of Hank’s ribs and muscle, cast in hard plastics.

Hank hitches, eyes sliding shut at Connor’s ministrations. His internal fans are on overdrive as they try and cool him off, so loud that even Connor can hear them. He moans, loud to match, meaty fists clutching at the bedsheets below. Connor drags his fingernails down his sides, catching the ridges that keep his body together.

“Lieu- Connor.” It comes out nothing less than a whimper of Connor’s name.

Connor feels equally breathless, “Yeah..?”

His falanges brush over the thirium pump regulator again, pressure on it increases as the man bears over it harder. Any more, and that cylindrical component will release, allowing Connor to twist his regulator out. Something in Hank wants it, craves to know what it feels like, but the rational part of him warns that he might die if it happens.

But Connor is enthusiastic about this, and Hank is willing to try.

“Right there,” he moans, a pant of artificial air punctuating each word. “Press more…”

With no more than a questioning hum, Connor obeys, eliciting another keen from Hank’s lips. His own cock throbs for attention then, dripping pearlescent precum onto the android below him. Lining his hips up with Hank’s own, he grinds them together, rolling them until his hand can bring both their members in his palm.

“This getting you off?” Connor grunts when the circle in Hank’s chest hisses, popping loose. “Now what?”

Hank’s eyelids flutter, as though he is already nearing purchase. He covers Connor’s extremity with his own, guiding him, “Now… twist right and… and pull.. _Ah_!”

Suddenly, the thirium pump regulator releases, feeling heavy and oh-so tangible in Connor’s fingers. It is slick with that indigo thirium that flows through Hank, coating the man’s skin in its viscous texture.

Hank’s little moan is drawn out, music to Connor’s human ears, and he picks up the pace on their cocks, jerking them harder than just seconds before. He can feel his balls drawing tight as the android leans up to nibble at Connor’s collarbones with flat teeth, just the way the man likes.

“Two minutes,” Hank’s lashes flutter against cheekbones. “Before I need my thirium pump regulator back…” He gasps, trying to keep his systems from overwhelming his senses with their blaring alarms.

Right, it is like ceasing someone’s heart from pumping normally, Connor thinks. This is crazy, Hank allowing him to do something like this, but he figures he should hurry it up if he does not want to risk putting the android in danger.

“Close,” Hank announces.

Now is the opportunity to drive the android to completion; Connor promptly sets down the regulator on the bed, quick to insert two digits where it once was within Hank. There is a crackle and pop that reverberates through the bedroom, but Connor does not feel much more than a tickle of static on his finger pads. He pushes them deeper, playing with something that feels like two prongs.

Hank jars up, spearing himself on the foreign intrusion that massages the electrical nodes inside of him. It feels unlike anything he has ever had in his short lifetime since activation. His circuits are frying, when before they were only simmering. His optical display has a red tinge to it. Not from anger, no, but from the pure ecstasy he that bursts through his core. The lieutenant looks equally as affected, sweat starting to drip from his brow while his dick twitches against Hank’s.

White hot sears through him when Connor brushes the end of his regulator compartment, feeling the connector at the very inside part of his chest and, for a second, Hank truly feels like he is dying… in the best way possible. Every single micro-movement the lieutenant makes, every breath he takes, Hank can feel it all. It is like… like he is one with the man.

This is the closest he has ever been with a human. His wiring sings, as if he is interfacing with another android, yet not at the same time. He wants to… burst at the seams, reach out and project the very fiber of his being into Connor as well. Hank can barely function, unable to do anything than feel and take, and take, and _take_.

“Ohh, Hank,” Connor cries, fingers tingling with static shock, but he cannot seem to care.

He is so close to coming. 

And Hank, too, is about to burst at the seams.

“Connor.” He throws back his head, code suffocating him for just a bit.

There is only a good thirty seconds left before he shuts down, but he is torn on Connor removing his fingers from his chest cavity. It feels amazing, so good; he is about to release.

“Connor!” Hank bellows, blindly gripping for his thirium pump regulator on the bed. There are only fourteen seconds left.

Connor, thankfully, is no dummy. He locates the regulator without fail, and is unable to miss the disappointed mewl when he removes his fingers from Hank’s insides. Quickly, he perfunctorily shoves the android’s heart component in, screwing it in one, fell swoop to Hank’s diaphragm space.

All the data comes rushing in at once and, just as the day he was activated, Hank comes back online. He can hear himself screaming. Or is that Connor? He does not know for sure, still whisking away the curtains of Arabic numeric in struggle to get back to the man on top of him; in front of him.

“Fuck, _daddy _!” hits his aural processors as soon as they refresh, all the noises budging their way into his ear holes.__

__He barely has time to register what is happening before Connor is coming against him, shuddering and shaking like a leaf._ _

__The man looks majestic, fae-like as he spends his seed, milky globules splattering against both Connor and Hank’s skin. His face has become a pretty cherry pink from exertion, fist pumping over their cocks at a wrist-breaking pace. His eyes roll to the back of their sockets; alabaster whites pure with final ecstasy. Hank cannot help but monitor his vitals, seeing as everything spikes in that instant when Connor comes. The orgasm washes over the lieutenant, pleasure finally crashing when it is building in crescendo for Hank._ _

__And then Connor is slipping back to Hank’s neckport, prying it open with help of Hank’s android mechanics. As soon as the man rams his fingers inside, Hank comes undone._ _

__It is like he is suddenly on the astral plane, unable to return to the artificial shell called body. Pleasure falls on him like an avalanche, powdery blue soaking him to his center. The optical nerves in his brain spark, a myriad of colors spray painting themselves in his mind. They create stars, almost as brilliant as the ones in the sky, suspended all around him instead of above him. He can hear himself screaming, voice tinny and crumbly and unadulterated as he falls back down to earth, conscious siphoned back into his android self._ _

__For what seems like an eternity, Hank matches his chest rise with Connor’s, feeling warm as the man lies there, burying his face in the crook of the android’s neck. Everything checks out; the information on his HUD pop-ups tell him._ _

__They bask in the afterglow, sweaty and messy as they are. Soon, Connor rolls to the side, still getting his breathing in check._ _

__“Lieutenant, that was…” But Hank, for once, has no idea what he is saying. He searches for the last word, but is only hit by raw emotion instead._ _

__Connor huffs a laugh. “Say no more, Hank,” he says. “I know already. I know. You don’t need to tell me about my goddamn daddy issues.”_ _

__“I wasn’t going to say that,” Hank smiles back. “But I can, if you want me to.”_ _

__“You’re a crazy bastard, you know that?” Connor shakes his head, his hair feathery on the pillow._ _

__The android hums contentedly._ _

__For the first time in Hank’s life, he goes into standby mode with Connor’s warm body against his, with his systems void of anything but love._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Punch that kudo button in the FACE if you would finger your android partner, too. (punchline creds to SSSniperwolf. Thanks Lia, don't sue me)
> 
> Where else to find me: @ra9sthiccbicc on Twitter. I wanna be friends with you.


End file.
